April 17: Back in the Netherlands from Belgium, we traveled to the UNESCO site of Kinderdijk, a landscape of marshes, canals and 18th century windmills. By boat, we glided to a windmill museum where the miller demonstrated how to pivot the sails to catch the wind, how to unfurl the sails’ canvas and — thanks to the miller’s scuffed and muddy wooden shoes — how to protect one’s feet against a heavy chain dropped from an unreasonable height!
Bonus: The cruise wine steward — whom we had gotten to know extremely well — told us that Kinderdijk was very special to her. Struggling through her first cruise, she said she was drowning in her mistakes and feeling completely incapable and worthless. “Then I took an excursion to Kinderdijk,” she told us. Did the windmills cheer you up? Well, yes. “But the amazing thing was the guests who were on the excursion. They greeted me with such enthusiasm. They thanked me. They even applauded when I boarded the bus!”
The wine steward paused in her story, then she added, “I felt special. I felt appreciated. And most of all I felt like I had a purpose — to make their trip special. The windmills will forever mean to me that I matter.”
April 18: More tulips, perhaps? On the morning of our last day in the Netherlands, Kathy and I, along with thousands of others, wandered the magnificent landscape of Keukenhof Gardens. In straight, curved or geometric beds — set jewel-like in perfect lawns — the gardens staggered us with rich colors, flamboyant varieties, creative arrangements, and breathtaking vistas. What a morning.
Bonus: In the afternoon, back in Amsterdam, we took a leisurely boat ride along the Singel canal, where we passed some of our favorite places from a week earlier. We also heard the quip about the composition of Amsterdam’s canals: 3 feet of mud, 3 feet of water and 3 feet of bicycles in between.
April 19: On the flight home today, I read a fascinating article about a project, begun in 1995, to build a medieval castle using only medieval tools, medieval technologies, and plenty of trial and error. Remember the near-miraculous rebuilding of the Cathedral of Notre Dame? Well, the experts of Guédelon supplied plenty of know-how to help rebuild the Forest, that immense timber framework supporting the cathedral’s roof. And, thanks to the expert ironworkers at the castle, they supplied 60 custom-fitted medieval axes too.
April 20: I am home, where I enjoyed several naps — and a fun dinner with my family recounting my adventures!
April 21: I really like the Netflix show Bridgerton. I like William Shakespeare too, but sometimes I just like Bridgerton more: especially Lady Agatha Danbury, she of the jewel-tone gowns, saucy headwear and honeyed voice. So imagine my delight when the Folger Shakespeare Library announced that British actor Adjoa Andoh (a.k.a. Lady Danbury) would offer programs for the public as part of her week-long residency here in Washington, D.C.
Tonight I attended a free screening of the United Kingdom’s first all-women-of-color production of Richard II, which in 2019 Andoh conceived, co-directed and performed. Steeped as I’ve been in medieval history, I savored the story. I also appreciated the production’s casting choices: how quickly race and gender dissolved into the play’s extraordinary language and acting. And, oh yes, I very much enjoyed watching Andoh embody Richard’s impulsiveness, irresponsibility and sorrow. No Regency marriages, but still lots of intrigue.
Bonus: In her opening remarks, Andoh described Richard II as a love letter to England. I had forgotten that Richard II is the source of the lovely speech that includes these famous lines: “This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle . . . /This happy breed of men, this little world,/This precious stone set in the silver sea,/ . . . This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England . . .”
April 23: Ok, one more travel story. On our last day in Amsterdam, hours before our cruise was to begin, Kathy and I enjoyed lunch in a charming Jordaan cafe with beer in our goblets and larceny in our . . . conversation. Yes, we knew people who might have smuggled a beer glass or two out of a pub. Yes, we enjoyed our beer very much and admired its serving glass. Yes, we asked the waiter if we could buy them (unwashed). No luck. I mournfully watched the waiter clear the table and away we went.
Well, five days later we wandered into a shop in Antwerp. I was determined to purchase a beer glass, any beer glass. Then Kathy pointed to exactly the glass we had coveted back in Amsterdam. We each bought one. Yay! But I wonder if the glass will allow me to drink a noncompliant beer in it?
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Fashioned For Joy 
Sounds like you are having a wonderful trip – tulips, stories of windmills, and that most important item, the beer glass. Enjoy!
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I’m glad we share the same priorities, Barbara — and I’m happy to report my new beer glass has already welcomed non-Dutch or Belgian beer! Yes, it was a marvelous trip.
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I love that photo of the canal-side houses reflected in the rippling water. Very arty!
I’m glad you like Bridgerton. We do too, though we came to it very late, after finally bowing to the inevitable and taking out a subscription to Netflix. It’s a highly creative re-imagining of “this scepter’d isle”; Lady Danbury is just one of several compelling characters.
Your reference to the Kinderdijk legend prompted me to research more details of the story. One thing I learned was that the title and lyrics of Harry Chapin’s 1974 song “Cat’s in the cradle” may refer to what reputedly happened at Kinderdijk. I’m not sure that I’m totally convinced, but it was great to revisit – courtesy of YouTube – a thoughtful song that I once greatly enjoyed but have not heard for many, many years. Thank you for prompting my serendipitous journey.
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Thank you for the high compliment about that arty canal reflection photo, Mr. P. It’s actually a detail (from a larger photo) that I initially created kind of by accident. I like it too!
“Cat’s in the Cradle,” huh? I remember that song well — such a poignant examination of the fleetingness of children’s lives, our complicated priorities and, of course, regret. Like you, I’m not sure I’m convinced about the link to Kinderdijk, but’s its both fun to consider a possible link and, as you said, to revisit the song. (And, yes, those are tears in my eyes.)
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I’m with Platypus Man. What a photo! One to frame. Wonderful story of the windmill. What a job that must have been, and with a family of twelve. Here’s a fun fact: my family name is Meunier, which means Miller in English. Then there are those flowers. Holy cats! I think I might have swooned in delight to walk among those gorgeous beds. Finally, as we Mainers would say, that was some trip.
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Thank you for liking the canal photo, Laurie. I’m becoming proud of it — and encouragement from a talented photographer like you matters!
How interesting about your family name; I was startled to realize at Kinderdijk that a “miller” describes anyone who works in a windmill (or watermill) for any purpose, including sawing planks or moving water around. I guess I had always mistakenly associated “millers” with grain processing. I wonder what kind of millers your family might have been!
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Greetings from Latvia! My friend was in Netherlands – guided tulip tour 🙂 Looks the same spot 🙂
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Dear Ilze — How nice of you to greet me here! On our cruise, several crew members were from Latvia; like you, they were exceptionally nice and spoke great English. Indeed, I admire yours!
How fun that your friend was guiding a tulip tour in the Netherlands at the same time I was there.
I hope you visit me again. 😊
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🙂 Nice to hear! Sorry for not saying properly 🙂 My friends was ON the tour, I was at home 🙂 She loved it! Beautiful!
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Dear Ilze — I apologize to YOU for misunderstanding about the tulip cruise your friend went on! Your command of English is pretty great. I admire your ability to read and write in multiple languages. And I’m delighted you are hearing about tulips from both of us!
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I asked her and she said – she was there!
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Things come full circle (begin and end your trip at the Hague), tulips …
I am glad you are safely home. Now to unpack … Maybe a beer (in your new glass) before you get started.
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Thinking about Richard II about what you said about gender and race ceasing to matter … first time I encountered this was watching Kenneth Branagh’s adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing (1993). When Denzel Washington came on screen, I did a double take and the much younger me took a while to get my head around a black Don Pedro. Now it seems de rigueur to push these boundaries.
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Such an interesting point, Ju-Lyn. I remember loving Kenneth Branagh’s film when it first came out. (Ahem.) And I probably was startled too — but Denzel Washington is so swoony that I adapted quickly. And yes, you’re right, the door is wide open now. (After “Hamilton,” it even took me a while to get used to the actual portraits of the U.S. Founding Fathers.)
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It starts with the Arts. The trickle to other areas of life is slowly moving along, but I guess it had to begin somewhere.
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